Tag: Jason Isbell

The Producers: Dave Cobb

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Dave Cobb is the man with the Midas touch. Since the Savannah-born guitarist/producer started working his magic in the studio more than 10 years ago, he’s produced some of the very best Americana records of the decade, including Sturgill Simpson’s High Top Mountain and Metamodern Sounds in Country Music, Chris Stapleton’s Traveller, and both of the brilliant solo recordings from America’s best songwriter, Jason Isbell. Cobb took time out from a session at his home studio in Nashville to speak with the BGS for the first in our series of interviews with producers about making records.

Dave Cobb: What’s happening?

Michael Verity: Not much. I have you down on my calendar for a chat.

Yeah, I remember, man. I’m a big fan of the Bluegrass Situation. You guys do some awesome shit.

Aw, thank you, man. We feel the same way about you!

You guys are one of the only real publications out there. It’s awesome, man.

Thank you! That’s always nice to hear. So, ever since I was a pup and I looked at the back of my first record album, which which was Bridge Over Troubled Water …

… oh, wow.

… and saw "Produced by Roy Halee" …

… one of my heroes …

… I’ve been fascinated by record producers. And then I read that Bridge Over Troubled Water was a template of sorts for Jason Isbell’s Southeastern.

Absolutely. I’m a huge fan of Roy. He’s kind of it for me. And yeah, about Southeastern: We met about two weeks before we recorded and it was hilarious because all I did was talk to him for a second then go, "Let me play you a record." And I played “The Only Living Boy in New York.”

That’s one of my favorite songs of all time. I think it’s one of the most brilliant productions ever. I pointed out that when you think of Simon and Garfunkel, you think of acoustic guitar. You never think of a band or of production. But, if you listen to that record, it’s so badass. They’re singing in cathedrals, there are loops going on. The kitchen sink’s on that record — harpsichords and bells — but it still feels like an acoustic record. And that was the template for Southeastern … to make a record that feels acoustic but not be purely acoustic. It’s awesome that you pointed that record out because it was absolutely the template. [Laughs] Even though Southeastern sounds nothing like it.

Sonically, Bridge Over Troubled Water really summarized much of what was created by the Byrds, the Beatles, and the Beach Boys, and then took it to the next logical step. And opened the door for the kind of productions Gus Dudgeon did with Elton John, for example.

Absolutely. I love those records, too. Tumbleweed Connection is one of my favorite records of all time, as well. You’re absolutely right. Man, you know your stuff.

In my opinion, “Cover Me Up” is one of the best Americana songs to have been recorded in the last 20 years.

Oh, wow.

If I were to put it under a microscope, how many of your fingerprints would I find on that song, do you think?

I had read about the recording of “Mrs. Robinson.” They said the guys recorded that song minus the band and then, after they got the track, they added the band — the Wrecking Crew guys — and that’s why the song feels so good … and moves. So I thought, "I don’t want to influence Jason at all. I don’t want anybody influencing his timing. I don’t want anybody influencing his ebbs and flows, his getting loud and getting quiet."

We were recording at this little tiny studio in the back of my house and it’s a little bit small, a little bit confined. We wanted him to be able to stretch out. So we ran lines into the house and put him in the kitchen, where’s he’s looking out over Nashville. There's nobody else around; he’s in the house completely alone and we’re down in the studio, listening.

So we had him record the song — as well as two or three other songs on that record — completely by himself, acoustic. After we got the track, we added the slide and the Mellotron and the bridge, things like that. 

It’s very simple and it’s supposed to be simple. I think, normally, when people try to record that kind of thing, they get everybody together, and they have a click track. They’re trying to get a really great take and then comp it to go. “Cover Me Up” is a pure performance, a one-take track with just a little bit of sweetening, which was my contribution.

With a Mellotron. Which was an Elton John instrument, right?

I think a lot of people used it. The Beatles used it. The Bee Gees. Back in the day, if you couldn’t afford strings, you got a Mellotron. I think it’s a wonderful instrument and a great way to create some atmosphere. We keep coming back to the same record, but on Bridge Over Troubled Water, there are strings and all kinds of stuff — like the Mellotron. It's an affordable way to get ahold of a glockenspiel or a marimba or whatever crazy instruments you can think of.

The funny thing about “Mrs. Robinson,” as you tell the story about adding the band afterward, is that Paul Simon supposedly didn’t even know they did that. He had gone off to Europe and, when he landed back in New York, he heard it on the radio and was like, "What the hell?"

He probably smiled all the way to the bank on that one.

Not to overstate the whole Bridge Over Troubled Water thing, but on the new Jason record, you can kind of draw some dotted lines between the two albums … the reverb on the drums on “Children of Children,” for example.

Oh, for sure. It’s old chambers — like the echo chamber at Sound Emporium, the studio that Cowboy Jack Clement built back in the '60s. It’s a really beautiful sound; you really can’t fake that. On “Bridge Over Troubled Water,” they were using an elevator shaft.

I know, right? Isn’t that cool? I was looking at the video about the making of [Isbell’s] “24 Frames.” Was your input as we saw it in that video indicative of how you work with musicians?

Yeah. When I go into the studio, I’m kind of the "fifth member." I like to be in the room with the artist and have an instrument on, whether I play on the record or not. It’s a tool to speak the language, to suggest melodic ideas, and push and influence the tempo and the like.

There’s a guy, Jimmy Miller, one of my favorite producers ever, who produced the best Stones stuff — from Let It Bleed to Exile [On Main Street]. The Stones really found their swagger with him. He’d get out there and play percussion or drums or whatever it took to get the groove. I think I kind of do that, as well, whether I have an acoustic guitar on or play percussion or whatever. I try to guide like that, without using clicks.

And with Jason, he’s really open and always very cool. He always has the songs; the songs are done because he’s an unbelievable writer. But with the little themes, the beginnings and ends and bridges, he’s always welcoming to ideas. We always have fun.

“The Life You Chose” and “Hudson Commodore” are my favorites on that album. The things I love about “The Life You Chose” are the idea of being “lucky” by losing three fingers — what delicious irony. And, right as he sings that line, there’s a cello that sneaks into the mix. It just floored me. I thought, “Dude, that is IT.”

Thanks, man. He always let’s me mess around and I love orchestrating. That’s the Mellotron again. That’s not even a real cello. The Mellotron lets me conduct a symphony in my own little studio.

Lindi Ortega did something cool — she recorded a little in Muscle Shoals, did a few tunes with another one of my favorite producers of all time, Colin Linden, and then tracked three of cuts with you. And it’s easy to tell which ones are yours. Just rock 'n' roll, baby. Did you have fun with that?

I love Lindi. I did her previous record, and I think she is such an amazing talent. Every time we work together, those vocals are live. Her songs are pure performance and we were just trying to capture lightning in a bottle. She’s so exuberant and alive and fun to work with … dancing while she sings, jumping around. I think you feel that on tape.

My other favorite you’ve done is Chris Stapleton’s Traveller which is a whole lot different than Lindi and Jason. To me, it has a much more glossy, rock 'n' roll sound. Should I trust my ears on that one?

Yeah. The guy who who engineered and mixed it was Vance Powell, a tremendous talent who did all the Third Man stuff, like Jack White’s records. We wanted a real simple, pure thing; that was driven by Chris. I love strings and stuff like that, but Chris was like, “Nah, no keyboards.” I think there’s like one hit of piano somewhere on the record.

But the way we did it was a really good idea. That guy's such an insane singer so we didn't want to let anything get in the way of the vocal. And he’s a phenomenal acoustic guitar player so we tracked it with him, a bass guitar, and drums, me on acoustic guitar, and his wife on harmonies. That’s pretty much what you hear, other than a few solo overdubs.

We had the privilege on working in RCA Studio A for much of that record and we had a blast. We’d show up at noon and goof around and talk and maybe order some food, talk over some drinks. We didn’t track until maybe 8 o’clock at night but, when we did, we’d get two or three masters. That’s what you hear on the record. It was such a fun session and a real lesson in recording when you’re inspired — not recording because you have a deadline. The label was great. They really let us stretch out. They were really supportive about it all, about having everybody in a good mood.

We talked a little about Jimmy Miller. Now let’s talk about Glyn Johns.

Glyn is my favorite engineer of all time. One of my favorite producers. His records were so hi-fi and beautiful. I think he made a great record with Ryan Adams with Ashes and Fire. I hear that record it makes me want to give up. I think I’m kind of a fake engineer. I work on the records, but I’m more of a songwriter kind of producer. His albums sound like music to me: guitar amps sound like guitar amps, singers sound like they're singing to you. I’m heavily influenced by him, especially by his rock 'n' roll records.

A good place to ask this question: Do you play with Europe? As in “The Final Countdown” Europe?

No, I don’t play with them. I produced their last album. I don’t play in the band Europe, no. [Laughs]

I was a little confused by that one.

Every once in awhile, I’ll jump on stage and play with them. When I was a kid, I used to play along with that stuff. Everybody did in the '80s.

The way that happened was, I produced this band called Rival Sons — they’re more of a traditional rock band. They do really well overseas, and the guys from Europe heard the record and called me about a year-and-a-half ago, asking me about working together. They called me thinking I’d be too cool to work with them, but I was really excited about it. I went over to Stockholm and we made a record that was awesome. It sounds like Black Sabbath or something. It was a lot of fun. We’re going to make another record again. They’re really good guys.

Has production always been in the back of your mind, even while you were in your own band … well before you did your first record with Shooter Jennings 10 years ago and started making a name for yourself?

I always wanted to be in a band and get a record deal and do it as a career. And my band did get signed and did a lot of heavy touring. But we signed a bad deal and got stuck, and if I recorded anything new with the band, it would go directly to the label that we hated. So that’s when I started taking production seriously. I’d met my wife by this time and I was ready to stop touring. I enjoyed playing shows and enjoyed recording records but I hated the road.

And I think when I was in bands, I used to drive everybody crazy trying to tell them what to play. Maybe I was douchier back then and production was a logical thing to do — start being a producer so people would actually start listening to you.

You've found your natural space.

Being a producer is like getting to be in a different band all the time. It’s a lot of fun. When you first join a band, it’s the most romantic thing. Then, after two or three years, you start hating each other. Being a producer, I get the first date kind of feeling all the time.

‘Something More Than Free’

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Seldom, if ever, does an album take two or three dozen spins around my record player before it hits the road to review. But this record, Jason Isbell’s fifth solo piece, is so good it’s dominated my turntable since the day it landed on my desk. The clarity of mind and deep sense of family values of which Isbell speaks in his excellent conversation with Kelly McCartney comes to musical fruition here on these 11 songs, beautifully articulate and confident observations of those everyday places where man makes connections between faith and fear, responsibility and desire, past and present.

The opening cut, "If It Takes a Lifetime," is just that: a narrative of a grown man who stays away from wine and beer (and keeps "pissin’ clear") in the name of his worldly responsibilities, always hopeful that “his day will come, if it takes a lifetime.” "24 Frames" and the exquisite "Children of Children" are epic journeys from a youthful point of view — the former drawing from the jangle rock of the South circa ‘85, the latter a beautifully expansive Midwestern chronicle of tall corn and light reins. "Flagship," a story of how we’d never like to be, and "Hudson Commodore," a story of how it's turned out, are stunning bookends around what might be the best five Americana songs of this decade. The best of them is "The Life You Choose," a nearly perfect narrative wherein a man who loses three fingers “to a faulty tool” considers himself to be the lucky one (and "nobody's fool").

Isbell’s voice on this album is lithe and graceful, tripping lightly across material both tough and tender. The arrangements — from the supporting vocals to the rhythm tracks to the deliciously subtle strings — are exceptional and the musicianship is top notch. But what makes this very best record I’ve heard all year — one that deserves those dozens of plays — is the stories, the talk of the temporal meeting the spiritual, and all the very human trips and stumbles that happen along the way. This is, for lack of ensuing competition, the best record of the year and worthy of consideration as one of the best of the decade.

Get Off Your Ass: December’s Halls Need Deckin’

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Gary Clark, Jr. // The Theatre At Ace Hotel // December 1

Corb Lund // Resident  // December 7

The Wild Reeds // Echoplex // December 8

Lee Ann Womack // The Canyon // December 9

The Steel Wheels // Genghis Cohen // December 10

Tribute to Linda Ronstadt // The Theatre At Ace Hotel // December 11

Michael Kiwanuka // The Fonda // December 12

Sara Watkins // The Troubadour // December 14

Brothers Osborne // The Belasco Theater // December 15

The Dustbowl Revival // The Hi Hat // December 15

Cody Jinks // 3rd & Lindsley // December 2-3

Ruby Amanfu & Friends // 3rd & Lindsley // December 4

Billy Strings // The 5 Spot // December 7

Birds of Chicago & Michaela Anne // The Basement // December 7

Mary Gauthier // Bluebird Café // December 8

Shawn Colvin // City Winery // December 14

Brent Cobb // The Basement East // December 15

Luke Bell // Exit/In // December 15

Gillian Welch // Ryman Auditorium // December 27

Robert Earl Keen // Ryman Auditorium // December 28

Jason Isbell, John Prine, & Kacey Musgraves // Grand Ole Opry House // December 31

Old Crow Medicine Show & Dom Flemons // Ryman Auditorium // December 31

Andra Day // PlayStation Theater  // December 1

Donovan // Symphony Space // December 2

Chris Thile // Town Hall // December 3

Steve Earle // City Winery // December 5

Kacey Musgraves // Town Hall // December 8

Cris Jacobs // Brooklyn Bowl // December 9

Steep Canyon Rangers // Town Hall // December 10

The Stray Birds // Rockwood Music Hall // December 15

Albatross // Rockwood Music Hall // December 16

Anais Mitchell // Rubin Museum of Art  // December 23

Tony Trischka // Joe's Pub // December 24

Nathan Bowles // Terminal 5 // December 28

LISTEN: Blackie and the Rodeo Kings, ‘Land of the Living’

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Artist: Blackie and the Rodeo Kings (featuring Jason Isbell)
Hometown: Hamilton, Ontario
Song: “Land of the Living"
Album: Kings and Kings
Release Date: January 13, 2017
Label: File Under: Music

In Their Words: "We are the warriors, the Pilgrims, the Migrant Workers, and the Hopeful who are out there discovering the bravery that lives in day-to-day North America. Lost on the land where we charge out into the darkness and race past the headlights of the drunk drivers who killed Johnny Horton and Clarence White. We feel the legends of the land all around. We pass through time and visit the shrines. We crawl through the dirt, overturning rocks, looking for the nails that were used to hang our heroes to their crosses. Across the fields of long forgotten hymns to the land of the living." — Tom Wilson

Photo credit: Mark Maryanovich

MIXTAPE: Patterson Hood’s Americana 101

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Americana was a name that used to trouble me when it first came into semi-vogue in the late 1990s. I didn’t really like alt-country, either. So many people tended to love the music and hate the various names for the genre that the original No Depression magazine even poked fun at that on their nameplate. That said, it was probably the most exciting sub-genre of its time and has had a quite impressive afterlife, growing to actually be a somewhat mainstream way for a wide variety of excellent artists to be marketed to an increasingly larger audience.

My playlist leans heavy on the turn of the (last) century’s roots of this genre, but I also hope to incorporate a little of the more interesting current songs and maybe a couple that pre-date the movement that are excellent examples of its origin. — Patterson Hood, Drive-By Truckers

Son Volt — “Windfall” (from Trace, 1995)

Probably the one song that best exemplifies and encapsulates everything that is great about this genre in three glorious minutes of musical confection that is so good it set up a blueprint for a genre and transcends most everything that followed that path.

Lucinda Williams — “Drunken Angel” (from Car Wheels on a Gravel Road, 1998)

Lucinda’s long-delayed Car Wheels on a Gravel Road survived its troubled gestation to become one of the genres first breakout hits and turned her into a bonafide star, winning Grammys and a life-long following along the way. Picking one song from this album was hard, but to me, the best of all was this ode to the life and untimely death of Austin Texas singer/songwriter Blaze Foley. Stunning.

Merle Haggard — “If I Could Only Fly” (from If I Could Only Fly, 2000)

Merle predates anything else in the Americana genre, but his music defined the best that it had to offer. By 2000, country music had moved in a much more mainstream direction, and Merle found a new following among the disaffected punks and roots rockers that alt-country drew and that he continued to inspire. ANTI- Records seized this opportunity, and gave Merle the chance to make exactly the kind of album that mainstream country wouldn’t. He rose to the occasion with this masterpiece. Merle was, himself, one of the best songwriters of all time, but for this compilation, I chose his cover of Blaze Foley’s masterful song that Merle loved enough to make the title cut of his “comeback” album.

The Silos — “I’m Over You” (from The Silos, 1990)

Although Americana is most widely associated with the late ’90s through the present, it had roots dating back to The Basement Tapes by Bob Dylan and the Band and the tons of incredible albums that it inspired, followed by the cult status of a wonderful band from St. Louis, Missouri, called Uncle Tupelo. However, in the most unlikely of times — the ’80s, which were way better known for new wave and bad drum sounds — R.E.M. and the Silos made records that took the best elements of those sounds and made them their own. The Silos never had near the amount of fame that they deserved, but their records still hold up as among the best albums of their time and beyond.

R.E.M. — “(Don’t Go Back to) Rockville” (from Reckoning, 1984)

Although they are usually better known for their later hit records, this gem from R.E.M.’s second album helped lay out a blueprint for the Americana genre and still holds up as an example of just how wonderful they always were. There’s no overstating what a breath of fresh air this song was to our ears in the mid-80s nor how great it still sounds over 30 years later.

Steve Earle — “Ben McCulloch” (from Train a Comin’, 1995)

Another artist that pre-dated (and probably hated the term) Americana, Steve Earle broke big in the ’80s with his debut album, Guitar Town, before descending into a haze of addiction and even jail time. Upon his release from jail, he laid the groundwork for his comeback with this stripped-down collection of excellent songs, none better than this tale of a scared and disgruntled Civil War soldier.

Townes Van Zandt — “Waiting ‘Round to Die” (from Live at the Old Quarter, 1977)

Although mostly pre-dating the term Americana, no one better represented all that was great about it than Townes. Steve Earle once famously said that Townes was the greatest songwriter in the world and that he would stand on Dylan’s coffee table and shout it out anytime. I imagine that that quote has out lived its intention, but this song shows a little bit of what Mr. Earle so grandly stated. This version — and the live album that it comes from — is a great introduction to the majesty of Townes’s songwriting and the power of song in general.

Gillian Welch — “Revelator” (from Time (The Revelator), 2003)

Gillian sprung from the mid-90s Americana scene and was further propelled by the success of the Coen Brother’s 2000 film O Brother, Where Art Thou? and its breakthrough soundtrack. Then she suffered a backlash from people accusing her of being a retro-novelty act. She fired back with this shape-shifting and time-traveling masterpiece that condenses a history of folk and blues into her personal here and now and, at the same time, takes two acoustic guitars and two singers and somehow, without a hint of shouting, manages to rock like Zeppelin and Crazy Horse. Over a decade later, I’m still in love with every song on this album, but this one seems to be the one that best encapsulates it all.

Wilco — “California Stars” (from the Billy Bragg and Wilco album Mermaid Avenue, 1998)

When Uncle Tupelo broke apart in the early ’90s, the two principles formed Son Volt and Wilco. Although initially considered the lesser of the two, Wilco has gone on to become one of the foremost bands of the last 20 or so years creating an eclectic body of work that still manages to challenge and surprise each time out. In 1998, Wilco joined forces with British folk singer Billy Bragg to put music to and perform previously unheard lyrics from Woody Guthrie. The result was two of the best albums of their time. The standout and breakthrough track off this collaboration was “California Stars” — a sublime piece of work that connects several generations of artists and shows the timelessness of great songs.

Centro-matic — “Flashes and Cables” (from Love You Just the Same, 2003)

One of the greatest and definitely most underrated of bands of the last couple of decades, Centro-matic hailed from Denton, Texas, made over a dozen wonderful albums, and toured relentlessly for nearly 20 years before disbanding in 2014. Prolific to a fault, many of those songs sound like mega-hits that somehow forgot to become such. None more than this track from their 2003 masterpiece. I can’t listen to it without visualizing an arena full of fans singing along with the catchy “bye-dee-ahhs” of the finale, a musical hook so relentless and endearing that it frequently soundtracks my dreams.

Jason Isbell — “Elephant” (from Southeastern, 2013)

I first met Jason in 2000, and it was love at first song. He was barely 20 and about to drop out of college, and I was blown away by his talent as a singer, songwriter, and guitar player. A couple of years later, he began a five-year stint playing in my band. By the time he left to pursue his solo career, he was drinking very heavily and his life was spiraling out of control. In 2011, he quit drinking and pulled his life back together, documenting it all in a masterpiece of an album called Southeastern. The standout track (and that’s saying a lot, in itself) is this song about a friend’s struggle with cancer. It’s literally a perfect song.

The Bottle Rockets — “Kerosene” (from The Bottle Rockets, 1993)

Barreling out of Festus, Missouri, in 1993, Bottle Rockets put the pedal to the metal, blasting dive bars across the country like an unholy amalgamation of Skynyrd and Doug Sahm mixing punk smarts and country fury with great songs and a rocking live show. Their literary smarts were never better represented than on this gem from their self-titled debut. “Kerosene” tells the tale of being down-and-out white trash, giving heart, soul, and life to a story that — on the surface — sounds like a laughable headline of Darwinistic stupidity. A trailer fire, told from the grave with simplicity and grace: “If kerosene works, why not gasoline?” Like the best songwriting, what’s said is only a fraction of the story and the real majesty is in what is left untold. One of my all-time favorite songs.

Kelly Hogan and the Pine Valley Cosmonauts — “Papa Was a Rodeo” (from Beneath the Country Underdog, 2000)

Kelly Hogan hailed out of Atlanta, Georgia, was one of the founders of its ill-fated Redneck Underground scene, and was the lead singer in the Jody Grind, who were poised to great success before a tragic van accident that killed two of its members in 1992. Later, Kelly (who was thankfully not in the van at the time) relocated to Chicago, Illinois, where she has enthralled everyone who has ever heard her magnificent voice. She has made several albums as a solo artist, and served as a much in-demand backup singer (Neko Case, the Decemberists, Jakob Dylan). For her second solo album, she was backed up by Jon Langford’s ensemble, Pine Valley Cosmonauts, and here, along with Atlanta crooner Mike Geier, she covered the Magnetic Fields classic and made it her own. Sublime and timeless.

This is just a surface scratcher, but hopefully it will serve as an invitation to delve further into these great artists and so many more. ENJOY!

Photo credit: rkramer62 via Foter.com / CC BY

The 2016 Americana Music Awards Winners

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The 15th annual Americana Music Association Honors & Awards Show happened last night at Nashville’s famed Ryman Auditorium. Led by host Jim Lauderdale, the festivities honored Bob Weir, Shawn Colvin, Billy Bragg, William Bell, and Lauderdale with Lifetime Achievement Awards.

Each of those recipients also performed, along with Rodney Crowell, Steve Earle, Emmylou Harris, Jason Isbell, Nitty Gritty Dirt Band, Bonnie Raitt, George Strait, Alison Krauss, and quite a many more backed by a Buddy Miller-led house band. Presenters include Jack Ingram, Timothy B. Schmit, Taylor Goldsmith, Wynonna Judd, the Indigo Girls, Bruce Hornsby, and Joe Henry.

Winners are in bold.

Album of the Year
Something More Than Free — Jason Isbell, Produced by Dave Cobb
The Ghosts of Highway 20 — Lucinda Williams, Produced by Greg Leisz, Tom Overby, and Lucinda Williams
The Very Last Day — Parker Millsap, Produced by Parker Millsap and Gary Paczosa
Traveller — Chris Stapleton, Produced by Dave Cobb and Chris Stapleton

Song of the Year
"24 Frames" — Jason Isbell, Written by Jason Isbell
"Dime Store Cowgirl" — Kacey Musgraves, Written by Kacey Musgraves, Luke Laird, and Shane McAnally
"Hands of Time" — Margo Price, Written by Margo Price
"S.O.B." — Nathaniel Rateliff & the Nightsweats, Written by Nathaniel Rateliff

Artist of the Year
Jason Isbell
Bonnie Raitt
Chris Stapleton
Lucinda Williams

Duo/Group of the Year
Alabama Shakes
Emmylou Harris & Rodney Crowell
Lake Street Dive
The Milk Carton Kids
Tedeschi Trucks Band

Emerging Artist of the Year
Leon Bridges
John Moreland
Margo Price
Nathaniel Rateliff & the Night Sweats

Instrumentalist of the Year
Cindy Cashdollar
Stuart Duncan
Jedd Hughes
Sara Watkins

The Color of Thunder: A Conversation with Amanda Shires

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It's hard to describe Amanda Shires, as a person or an artist. There's just something about her that floats above and beyond categorization and calculation. Perhaps it's the poet in her that tilts and colors her worldview into a magical, mystical joyride full of life, love, and the pursuit of happiness. Her last release, Down Fell the Doves, is a staggeringly wonderful collection of songs that attempt to capture and convey that joyride with quirky lyrics and unexpected melodies. This year, Shires follows that work up with My Piece of Land. Produced by Dave Cobb, the beautiful new album was written and recorded right as Shires was gearing up to have her first baby with husband (and, now, co-writer) Jason Isbell. In true Shires fashion, it's brimming with wonder.

So … you had a bunch of songs written, then you killed your laptop.

Yes! How did you remember that?

I don't know. I have this weird Rain Man thing. I just remember stuff. So, what do you think was in there that the world couldn't handle hearing?

[Laughs] There was one little tiny part of something that I had … I had part of “Harmless” from that laptop because I'd printed out an early draft of it. I don't know why, maybe just to look at it differently because I couldn't finish it. That's the only thing I had from that batch.

Hmmm. I always look at these things karmically: There's a reason everything happens. So, for whatever reason, the world wasn't meant to hear those songs.

Maybe they were all rap songs.

Maybe. We'll never know. So you had to press on from there. In the last few months of pregnancy, you started over.

Yeah. I was on the road up until July 5 or 6, flying on planes and traveling that way. I still played some shows around Nashville, but I was at home so much and I like being busy. I ran out of things to do. I did all the things you can think of to prepare for a baby … nesting and cleaning stuff up. I even have posters and stuff in the garage, from that time of making stuff organized. Then, after that, I just started writing. I got five songs or so in, and I called Dave and we scheduled it.

Was it a given that you were going to work with him or did you make him earn it?

[Laughs] I just thought, “I hope he says 'yes.' I hope he has time.” He had both of those things, so I was lucky to have him.

In the middle of all that, you were working on your degree [a master's in creative writing]. Is that all finished up now?

Nope. I'm working on my thesis. I asked for an extension, when I played in Chattanooga, from the stage. [Laughs]

[Laughs] It was granted, I take it.

Yes. They're nice folks over there.

I thought I would have time to finish it all. I didn't know anything about babies. I didn't know they wake up every two hours, then every three hours, and four hours. Now, I'm getting to a place where I'll have time.

Writing poetry and writing songs … the two aren't as interchangeable some, including a certain character on Nashville, might have us believe, right? They are very different forms.

Yeah. Very different. In songwriting, you have the musical setting which helps you dictate what your song's going to be or what mood it's going to be. With poetry, you don't have that. You have just the page. You have to get everything across without music. It's very different. You have waltzes and shuffles and all these kinds of rock 'n' roll songs. Then, poems, you can write in different meters and different structures. The lens is way smaller. The lens is very small with poetry.

That's an interesting way to look at it. Words have rhythms and beats and cadences, but folding in the extra layer of music puts it in a different realm. I feel like many of my favorite songwriters are also poets, whether they started there or not.

There are a lot of elements that are the same, that cross over. Like sonnets and rhyming, although poems also don't have to rhyme. But, in a song, you gotta have some rhymes. You really do. It's important. Especially for memorizing, I guess. Then you have all the other poetical things that go into songs, too, your similes, metaphors, allegories … all that stuff can apply.

I feel like it's songwriter-poets who more often land lines that stop me in my tracks. You have some moments like that, throughout your discography. My favorite on this record is “Your eyes a shade of wonder, like if thunder had a color.” That's crazy!

Awww. Well, that's a high compliment. When you're trying to describe something, it's best to just be yourself and describe it. If I said that in a conversation, people might think it sounded really crazy, like “What are you talking about?! That's not how we're communicating here.” But I can't just sing, in that song, “Kind of greenish, greyish, blueish, purpleish right now.” [Laughs]

[Laughs] “And with a certain hazy light.”

Yeah. And then with the implication of what that color does to you or how that moment kind of rocks you a little bit … like thunder.

Do lines like that catch you off-guard or do you go hunting them? How do those things come for you?

For me, it comes in my mind like a picture. I'm sitting here thinking and trying to describe something. I write everything down and there's a picture that just says it.

Alright. You have a little cosmic thing going on. I like it.

[Laughs] It's like an imagery thing. In my mind, there's an image of this setting. I don't know. It just comes like a poem or picture might look.

I get it. “Pale Fire” lays me down, too. It reminds me a bit of old-school, classic Ani DiFranco. She was a poet and a dancer before she fell into music. I don't know. There's something about that.

That one, I'm really proud of, for a different reason. I have two co-writes on this record — “Pale Fire” is one and “My Love (The Storm)” is the other. Both of those mean something to me because they were successful co-writes with Jason. By “successful,” I mean successful in the fact that we were able to talk about pretty deep things and create something together without either of us suffering. We didn't have to sacrifice anything when we were writing. We both got to communicate the way we wanted to without having to give up too much of our own preferences.

And that is a big deal. You're both great writers, but with different styles.

And, also, we haven't explored that a lot. It was a really good experience. You hear all these horror stories about co-writing.

I love seeing the two of you guys on stage together, seeing your love and your relationship … the dynamic of it. It's also very sweet and special seeing how you guys interact with the world. You're very open, posting photos and what not. It endears you to your fans on such a deep level. He and I have talked about it, but what's your thinking on living out loud in the way you two do?

My thinking is that it's easier to get through the world when you have other people who are sharing their experiences, too, I guess. When you are open, it gives people a chance to know what they're getting into. If you follow me or follow him, more than likely, we have the same views of the world. Then, if you're sharing stuff, it makes the world feel more connected … connected in the bigger sense, like we're all going through all this stuff at the same time.

That's one of the greatest things about social media and why it's been so successful: All any of us want is to be connected.

Yeah. Yeah.

Even if it's in crappy, trolling ways. [Laughs]

[Laughs] Yeah. It's the shared human experience.

Absolutely.

Also, it keeps you from going to a show and getting the kind of people who are there for the wrong reasons. [Laughs]

[Laughs] That was Jason's thing. He wants people coming to his shows to know who he is, to know where the songs are coming from so, like you said, hopefully there's some kinship there.

Yeah. So, when you get into a room and voice your opinions, you're not getting booed at.

Or you still might, but at least it'll be for the right reasons. [Laughs]

[Laughs] Yeah. Exactly.

Even though those are the first songs you guys wrote together, I hear “You Are My Home” as an answer to “Cover Me Up” and “Flagship.” Is that about right?

I don't think it's an answer to it. I mean, it could be taken that way. I can see that. But I feel like that song, for me, being pregnant, I was having to think about a lot of things … like hormones make you do. You have all these joyful things and all this hope. Then you have these dips where you have questions like, “Are we going to make it? Because we need to make it for this child, at least. How does that look? What is 'home' exactly if we're going to be traveling all the time and sometimes not seeing each other?”

Then there's the inherited sense of home that we all have from our own childhoods. It was, in a way, coming to realize that what you've inherited from your childhood is not the same as the home it is that you make for yourself. So, in that song, I wrote it trying to explore what it was I was feeling. And, I guess, realizing that home didn't mean just this place where we live together — the house and the stuff that's in the house. It's the person who, really, is my home … that no matter where we were, where we lived, if we're on the road together or not together, in my mind, my home is with Jason and with Mercy. It doesn't matter where it is. It can be any town. We can call every town our home.

It's a state of mind … or a state of heart, I guess.

Yeah. A state of heart, more accurately, for sure.

So, a year in, what has little Mercy Rose taught you that you didn't know before? Besides the fact that babies don't sleep.

Now, she sleeps from 9:30 pm to 9:30 am. It's awesome! She's been doing that since she was about six months old.

It's given me a fresher outlook on the world. Everything is wonderful to look at. It's psychedelic. You're seeing everything like a psychedelic trip or something. You start looking at the grass again and being amazed by it. We watch her be amazed by her own hands. It's hilarious. It's hilarious and it's gross and it's awesome, all at the same time. [Laughs]

[Laughs] Okay. Last question …

Really?! Already?!

I mean, we can keep yakking …

I didn't even know I answered any.

Yeah. You got a few in there. So, I don't know who Maria is, but she has a couple of scenes in this thing.

She's a real person.

Can we make “some sad Maria” … is that going to be the new “Becky with the good hair”? Can we get that kind of traction on this thing?

[Laughs] Maybe!

[Laughs] I think t-shirts are a must.

[Laughs] That's awesome! I actually need to call Maria and tell her that her name is on the record.

Several times. Girls are going to be trying to kiss her in alleys now.

Oh … that happens sometimes.

Photo credit: Josh Wool

Squared Roots: BJ Barham on the Brilliance of Bruce Springsteen

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Bruce Springsteen. What, really, is there to write about him that hasn't been written thousands of times? (Although this ranking of all his songs is awfully cool!) He's a working-class hero, a thinking-man's poet, an activist-artist, a national treasure, and a songwriter's songwriter with 18 albums and millions of record sales to his credit. Over the past five decades, Springsteen has witnessed and documented in song the American dream — its promise, its realization, and its demise. For that, he can also be credited as an oral historian.

To American Aquarium's BJ Barham, Springsteen is also the greatest ever. Full stop. On his recent solo debut, Rockingham, Barham puts that admiration and influence on full display, working through an Americana song cycle about small-town living with a gruff voice and a simple message.

What is it, for you, that makes Springsteen so great?

Springsteen, for me — and I've argued this with plenty of people — he's simply the greatest American songwriter we've ever seen. [Bob] Dylan's good. I really like Dylan a lot. I really like Tom Petty a lot. Dylan wrote a lot of artsy, abstract stuff, too. Springsteen always writes to the core of America. Springsteen writes songs that 21-year-old hipsters in East Nashville can relate to or, you can play them for my father, and he relates to the same exact verbiage, same exact song. It's timeless. You play Thunder Road, you play Born to Run … you play anything from Born to Run and it could've happened today; it could've happened in the '60s.

There aren't many songwriters that we come across in this business that have that ability. And I'm one of the countless songwriters who spent my entire 20s at the “Church of Springsteen” and am, really, sometimes just doing a pale imitation. Everybody who writes songs about small-town living that comes out and says Springsteen didn't influence their music are liars. [Laughs]

He taught me that you can have a guitar and three chords and tell people stories about where you're from and people will relate to it. There's no greater lesson that I have learned than from Springsteen: Write what you know. He made New Jersey sound romantic. That's how good Bruce Springsteen is. New Jersey is a terrible place. Springsteen is the only guy who can make New Jersey sound appealing or romantic or nice or not a shithole. I can say this because my bass player and my guitar player are both from New Jersey.

Having never been to New Jersey, on my first tour, I made sure to book a gig in Asbury Park. On the way up, I was like, “Man, this is going to be a game-changer. This is going to be life-altering!” Then, you pull up to Asbury Park, New Jersey, and you're like, “What the hell?!” [Laughs] “Did they do nuclear testing here after the Springsteen records came out?! Maybe this is the desolate wasteland that came after the vibrant city he painted picture of …” Then you realize, that's how good Springsteen is. He's such a good writer, he can make New Jersey sound like a hotspot tourist destination.

Being a guy from a small town that's not really desirable in too many different ways, it taught me that you can sing about what you know — sing about things that are close to you — in a way that made it relatable to the rest of the world. On my new record, Rockingham, all of these songs are about my hometown. They are all about a very specific time and place. And I attempted to make these songs so that somebody in Anchorage, Alaska, or somebody in Wichita, Kansas, can hear these songs and put themselves in these characters' shoes. That's what Springsteen taught me, that most of us have the same perspective.

It's interesting what you said about how his old records are still just as relevant today. That's great for him — that he's able to write such timeless pieces. But it's also a little bit sad for us — that there's been very little progress.

Very much so. If Springsteen came around today, he wouldn't exist as Bruce Springsteen. He would've put out his first record, Greetings from Asbury Park, and he would've been dropped from his label immediately because he only sold 100,000 copies. And he might live in obscurity. If Springsteen came out today, he'd be one of the guys who're on the road 200 days a year playing in empty bars singing songs about common people. It was the right place, right time for Springsteen. Luckily, Columbia Records gave him three shots. That's unheard of today.

Well, he was a critical favorite, right out of the gate, some 43 years ago. But, you're right, the big sales didn't come along until later.

Don't get me wrong, by '84 or '85, that man was playing football stadiums — a level of fame, arguably, nobody today really understands … unless you're Beyoncé.

Right. A singer/songwriter doesn't do that.

Nobody walks into Giants Stadium and plays, at the root of it, folk music. Don't get me wrong: He had the bombastic band and, in the '80s, he made the horrible decision to add synthesizers to everything; but, at the base of everything, those are three-chord folk songs. Nebraska is a great example of what Springsteen sounds like in his room just playing an acoustic guitar.

I was just listening to Nebraska and Tom Joad. That's John Moreland. That's Jason Isbell. That's Lori McKenna. Those are the artists making that kind of music today. But, yeah, they are, at best, playing a nice theatre or maybe a small shed.

If you look at some of the outtakes from Nebraska … “Born in the U.S.A.” was supposed to be on Nebraska and there are acoustic versions floating around of demos he did for “Born in the U.S.A.” It's a haunting folk song about the reality of the Vietnam War and what it did to the American psyche. But, if you talk to anybody my age about “Born in the U.S.A.,” it's, “Oh, that's that cheesy Springsteen song.” It's all because of that synth line that makes it danceable and pop-py and sellable. But, when you strip everything away from any of his songs, they're John Moreland, they're Jason Isbell. They're everybody that we look up to today in the Americana scene. Springsteen just put 20 instruments over the top of it to sell it.

But he was a product of his environment. That's what was going on in New Jersey. If you wanted to play on the beach, you had to have a band that made people dance. He learned that, as long as he had the band to make people move, he can sell it mainstream. And he got to sneak in all these amazing poems. The best part about it was, America thought, “This is really catchy.” But they were listening to, in my opinion, the greatest American songwriter ever to write songs.

It's interesting because, I think, those are the people — much like Ronald Reagan trying to use it for a campaign song — they weren't listening. They're listening on the surface to the riff and the chorus, but they weren't actually tuning into it.

And it blows my mind because the first line of that song is such an epic line: “Born down in a dead man's town. The first kick I took was when I hit the ground.” WHAT?! [Laughs]

[Laughs] So do you have a favorite era or album? Or can you not pick?

For me, it's Born to Run. It's eight songs. It's perfect. A 47-minute record. It's funny that my debut is an eight-song, 45-minute record.

[Laughs] Hmmm. That is interesting.

[Laughs] Springsteen taught me that, nowadays, everybody wants to put out 16-song records with a five-song bonus disc, if you get the deluxe edition. Born to Run, arguably one of the best records that will ever be made, in my opinion … eight songs. It's the perfect four songs on each side of vinyl. I can't even get started. “Jungleland” … I still cry.

Every generation has great songwriters. For my generation, Isbell is that … for me. He's playing big theatres. Let's be generous and say he's playing for 3,000 people per theatre. That's one-tenth of what Springsteen was playing. We'll never see anything like what Springsteen was. It was a cultural phenomenon, the fact that America rallied around a songwriter. Beyoncé is lucky to sell out a football stadium now and she had 16 ghostwriters on every one of her songs. Springsteen was a guaranteed sell-out. So, if he booked a football stadium, he might have to book two or three nights because it sold out so quickly. I don't think we'll ever see that again, in our lifetime. It was such a perfect storm.

Looking back, I don't understand how it happened. It's like if John Moreland got famous, or someone you loved in your record collection that you wondered why nobody else knew about them got extraordinarily famous. The closest we have, to me, is Isbell. Knowing him pre-Southeastern and going to one of his shows now and seeing how big it is, it's still not even a speck on what Springsteen was, which is hard to wrap your head around.

For more songwriters admiring songwriters, read our Squared Roots interview with Lori McKenna.

Photo of BJ Barham by Joshua Black Wilkins. Photo of Bruce Springsteen courtesy of the artist.

3×3: Josh Rennie-Hynes on Alanis, Nashville, and Some Rather Questionable Nicknames

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Artist: Josh Rennie-Hynes
Hometown: Woodford, Queensland, Australia
Latest Album: Furthermore
Personal Nicknames: JRH, Joshy, Rennie, Hynesy, J Hizzle, DJ Jrenz (I may have made those last two up.)

 

Raised by Eagles kicking it in Nashville

A photo posted by Josh Rennie-Hynes (@joshrenniehynes) on

What was the first record you ever bought with your own money?
Alanis Morissette, Jagged Little Pill (I think I was 7.)

If money were no object, where would you live and what would you do?
I'd live in Nashville. I just performed at Americana Fest and got to check out the city for the first time, and I loved it. I'd be performing, writing, and earning my crust through music. The plan is to move over there in the next year or two, once I get the next record out. Then I will execute said plan.

If your life were a movie, which songs would be on the soundtrack?
Oh geez, that's hard! It'd sound something like this …
Ryan Adams – "Friends"
Tom Petty – "Time to Move On"
Kingston Trio – "Reverend Mr. Black"
Alanis Morissette – "You Live You Learn"
Bellwether – "Catalina"
The Replacements – "Here Comes a Regular"
New Radicals – "You Got the Music in You"
Bruce Springsteen – "Racing in the Street"
Paul Westerberg – "Good Day"
John Williamson – "Galleries of Pink Galahs"
Everly Brothers – "All I Have to Do Is Dream"

 

I dang well got me some second hand boots in Texas!

A photo posted by Josh Rennie-Hynes (@joshrenniehynes) on

What brand of jeans do you wear?
Cheap ones that I bought in New Zealand — I don't even know the brand. I'm due for a new pair.

What's your go-to karaoke tune?
Currently, it's any song written by Tom Petty. I've been working my way back through his catalogue. Too good!

What's your favorite season?
Autumn. It's always hot where I'm from, so I'm a lover of cooler weather.

 

Chatanooga, you son of a bitch.

A photo posted by Josh Rennie-Hynes (@joshrenniehynes) on

Kimmel or Fallon?
Fallon!

Jason Isbell or Sturgill Simpson?
Isbell! Although they're both amazing in their own right.

Chocolate or vanilla?
Chocolate.

8 Acts We Can’t Wait to See at Bonnaroo

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Summer is here and Bonnaroo is right around the corner … less than a week away, to be exact! In case you missed it, we'll be down at the Farm hosting the best party the Roo's ever seen. Come by the BGS stage on Sunday to catch John Moreland, Sara Watkins, the Wood Brothers, Steep Canyon Rangers, Sam Bush Band, and the BGS Superjam with Ed Helms. 

We'd be remiss if we didn't make the most of the festival and catch as many acts as possible, though, so we're working hard on our schedule. Below are eight acts that we can't wait to see.

Jason Isbell

It's no secret that we're huge Isbell fans here at the BGS, catching his shows whenever we get the chance. For his Bonnaroo set, let's hope he channels his inner Drive-By Trucker and offers up some jam sessions.

Chris Stapleton

While we miss the old days where getting a ticket to see Stapleton wasn't as difficult as getting a ticket to see Hamilton, we're happy for him to finally get his due. If you've never experienced Stapleton's godlike voice in person, now's your chance.

Father John Misty

Who better to watch while surrounded by sweaty hipsters than our greatest satirist of hipster culture? We can only hope FJM serves up some festival-themed commentary along with his thoughtful folk-rock tunes.

Natalie Prass

If Natalie Prass stays true to the arrangements on her excellent 2015 self-titled debut, you should expect one hell of a horn section at her set. As the saying goes, "I need more horns." Or something like that.

Rayland Baxter

Rayland Baxter has long been a fixture of the Nashville music scene, and his 2015 release, Imaginary Man, saw his star rise to higher, more national heights. Catch him while he's on the rise.

Andrew Combs

Nashville singer/songwriter Andrew Combs has earned heaps of acclaim for his thoughtful, throwback country tunes. We look forward to hearing those songs translated to the festival stage.

Dylan LeBlanc

There's no dearth of singer/songwriters performing at Bonnaroo, but you'd be hard-pressed to find one writing better tunes than Dylan LeBlanc. Fresh off some gigs opening for the Alabama Shakes, LeBlanc should be a crowd-pleaser with songs from his latest album, Cautionary Tale.

Aubrie Sellers

Aubrie Sellers is one of our favorite new voices in country music, and we can't wait to see her give tunes from her stellar debut album, New City Blues, the Bonnaroo treatment. And who knows, maybe her mom and fellow BGS fave — Lee Ann Womack — will join her for a song or two before hopping into the BGS Superjam!